Building my tomorrow: reflections on STAMMAFest 2026
Mikey Tose talks us through his 12th visit to STAMMAFest, our conference last month, and shares the poem he wrote at the creative writing workshop.
Holey moley! Venturing to Northampton for STAMMAFEST 2026 would mark my 12th conference experience, and as a lone ranger I never felt alone when I got there. So many friends to catch up with and hug as the weekend went on.
The opening ceremony on Thursday is always a wonderful icebreaker for new and experienced delegates to say that first hello and above all else just talk and listen to each other.
Making new friends
The first plenary on Friday was 'The Future of Stammering', with three key speakers who brought thought-provoking points and a big handful of humour. This is also the day when the conference workshops get going. My first one was 'Walking with avoidance' with Trish Chilton, who gave us all wonderful tips on self-kindness and I took away her wisdom of putting something on the wind and letting it blow away.
Our talking and laughter had filled the air every meal time just as much as each and every beautiful soul had shone in that room.
Then there was the 'Open listening' workshop, where I was encouraged to improve my listening skills by Aidan Sink and Genevieve Lamoureux. I very much got carried away with my workshop partner and really got into the exercises. I also enjoyed Hanan Hurwitz's session 'I am responsible for building my tomorrow' and 'Build identity and a sense of pride in stuttering' with Kristel Kubart, who shared her life story and her work with kids who stammer. I plan to keep some of the wisdom I heard that day.
Before the quiz that evening, there was an impromptu gathering in the kitchen with the people in the halls I was staying with, and we shared stories and laughed together. The quiz night is always such fun, whether you win or lose. You make new friends and we had a lot of laughter on our table. I came into my own with the TV themes round, but we all contributed answers and just enjoyed each other's company.
The jigsaw of me
Up for another breakfast filled with chattering on Saturday in the sunshine. Another plenary 'AI: Friend or foe?' was certainly food for thought. Then onto my first workshop 'Self-compassion: from harsh critic to wise coach' with Ben Farmer and Carolyn Cheasman, which set me off in another insightful mood. Being a film buff I also enjoyed the screenings of Stutterbug and Voiceless, both well-made and acted short filmsabout different perspectives of social interactions with a stammer, with pathos and humour.
The next workshop I chose was 'Draw your stammer: lines that pause' with Bhupinder Purewal and Tash Bronson, where we were encouraged to give our stammers visual representation in drawings and patterns, and I learnt to see my stammer as a piece of the jigsaw which was me. This was well attended by the kids at Family Day, who stood at the front and explained their drawings. I like seeing them at STAMMAFEST, I find them exciting and invigorating. So much so, I confessed to being "a child at heart" when I stood at the front myself and explained the jigsaw of me with only the small top piece being my stammer and other parts of my puzzle including being a big movie fan, a twin and singing in a choir. My child at heart comment struck a chord with first-timer Sadie, who spoke to me about it later.
For my final workshop that day, I had the honour of attending the junior open mic and sat at the back to clap and clap for our next generation. All I'll say is: watch out world because these kids are coming for you! They were fearless and, who knows, in later life they could be doing workshops themselves.
For the first time in my conference experience there was a themed Saturday night. The West got that touch wilder with 'STAMMAFEST in the Wild West'. So many of us made an effort with dressing up, and there were lots of cowboys, cowgirls and a lot of line dancing. I tried to keep up with the great teacher and was dancing in a line but I suspect my moves were half hers and half me winging it with what I thought were the moves.
At the end-of-the-night dance, when three couples were dancing at the front, I felt the magic of being one of them, thanks to Sam. I will remember us all dancing, whether we were at the front, at the back, in a couple or by ourselves because it was simply so joyful.
I will be thinking of and smiling about all of the many souls I encountered, more than you realise in the days to come.
To my genuine surprise I won best costume (thanks must go to Ebay for my efforts) and was later told it was an easy decision. But to be honest I was very impressed with some of the costumes. A wonderful memory is of Bob Adams telling me at the end of the night that word was going around the people outside that I had won. I wandered from person to person sharing that tub of chocolates with a big grin of pride. Maybe we could keep up this tradition next time, with a disco-themed 1970s night, or a summer beach party with 1960s songs, hits of the 1980s, or if it's a Global STAMMAFest, a costume that most reflects your home country.
Tapping into my creative energy
By the time Sunday comes, I don't know about anyone else but it always feels like I've been at the conference longer than just a few days. Our final breakfast was again echoed with lots of talking and laughing. I wore my cowboy costume again with pride and enjoyed the plenary 'Representation in the media' with a guest panel who showed their stammer and resilience for all to see on our TV screens, including Jessie from The Traitors (see the picture below).
Then onto my final workshop and another unexpectedly insightful one. In 'Creative writing' with Bevin Murphy and Adam Giannelli we were encouraged to tap into our creative energy to describe our voice and stammer in writing or poetry. Returning to my idea of seeing my stammer as just one piece in the jigsaw of me, for the first time ever I wrote a letter to it. The words were as bittersweet as they were flowing but I was eager to share every line with the room. I just about got them out and didn't turn into Julia Stiles in the film 10 things I hate about you on her poem. The young woman on my table saying it gave her goosebumps will stay with me. I didn't get the chance to share it with a wider audience at the open mic, but have included it below for others to read. You can share any part of it if you so wish.
Open mic was, as always, the emotional climax of the conference. New faces and a couple of old ones made it up to the stage. We listened, we shared their laughter, maybe the odd tear, and heard their voice.
The closing STAMMAFest 2026 speech was followed by many hugs with friends. We didn't know when or if we would see each other again, but we were all part of each other's conference experience. Thank you to all those who hugged and said goodbye to me. Sadie reminded me of being a child at heart and Kate just had to have one more hug. I will treasure the rock she painted for me and it made a wonderful keepsake.
After all that, I was sat in the deserted eating area with another long-time conference chum Pat who kindly kept me company waiting for my housemate to arrive. I was struck by the now profound silence of the room. Our talking and laughter had filled the air every meal time just as much as each and every beautiful soul had shone in that room. I have to confess my heart ached a little at both the silence and the now emptiness of that room.
Closing thoughts
For the next few weeks I will navigate the afterglow where I process the thoughts, feelings and emotions generated by the conference. That feeling of pride, that smile at a funny memory or connecting with someone regardless of age or background. I think a lot of us will be doing that whether we realise it or not. It's OK, just go with these feelings and as I learnt, keep them or put them on the wind to blow away.
In more personal moments, I was caught off guard by an unexpected compliment from Kristel and her husband after I did a simple gesture for a photograph. Their thoughtful words left me stunned and my heart will remember that memory. My heart will also remember John taking me over to show me a photo of him and his late wife on the history of STAMMA display board. I still say we get sent down glorious sunshine from those up above on these STAMMAFest weekends.
So, in closing I want to share two points with you all. Firstly, this 53-year-old man is so very grateful to that 31-year-old lad who came to his first conference in 2004, who figured out what to do when he got there, and kept on coming back even on his own. Simply because he wanted to see old friends, make new ones, find out new things about himself and his stammer and to expand his comfort zones.
Secondly, I will be thinking of and smiling about all of the many souls I encountered, more than you realise in the days to come. You were all fabulous; each and every one. Thank you for being part of my conference experience. Keep dancing, keep singing, keep smiling and above all else, keep talking.
Much love from your best-dressed cowboy and child at heart Mikey Tose.
My poem
To my stammer,
Hello, how are you doing?
I accept you are a part of me. You make up a piece of the jigsaw of me.
But I'll be damned if you are the biggest piece of me and I'll be damned if I let you define me.
Choose my words. Choose who I talk to.
And where do you go to at those Comic Cons? Where I forget you even exist.
Where you have no place at the table when I talk to my favourite Bond Girl and Scream Girl Caroline Munro with fluency… like total fluency.
Come find me after. You always do.
But know your place in my jigsaw.
So, stammer. How you doing?
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